I am afraid,
Of your pretty little hands.
My heart is in your hands,
So small and insignificant.
With swift stroke,
The small heart,
Would be crushed,
Beaten and gone.
A heart so,
Dedicated and strong,
Yet so small,
And non-existent.
It calls to you,
Like a tree,
Falling in the forest.
Did you hear?
No, of course not.
Why should you feel,
Anything for me,
And my heart.
Of your pretty little hands.
My heart is in your hands,
So small and insignificant.
With swift stroke,
The small heart,
Would be crushed,
Beaten and gone.
A heart so,
Dedicated and strong,
Yet so small,
And non-existent.
It calls to you,
Like a tree,
Falling in the forest.
Did you hear?
No, of course not.
Why should you feel,
Anything for me,
And my heart.
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